


Corpse

by TheAuthorAgain



Series: Short Stucky Fics [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (so stop begging him to pardon you steve you dumb twink), Angst, Canonical Character Death, Depressed Steve Rogers, God Loves the Gays, Grief/Mourning, Howling Commandos - Freeform, Hurt Steve Rogers, M/M, POV First Person, POV Steve Rogers, Quote: I'm with you 'til the end of the line (Marvel), Sad Ending, Sad boi hours, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, World War II Stucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:53:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28879782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAuthorAgain/pseuds/TheAuthorAgain
Summary: Even with Bucky there, underwater was lonely. Now he's gone, and I'm drowning.ORSteve Rogers searches for Bucky after he falls off the train.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Short Stucky Fics [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2093415
Kudos: 17





	Corpse

**Author's Note:**

> This was requested by a Wattpad user. If y'all like it, I may turn it into an actual fic, but the original requester wasn't a huge fan so I'll need some convincing. Hope you enjoy!

You know that feeling when you open your eyes underwater and there's no one else there?

It's surreal. Because you can see legs, you can see torsos, but that's it. And everything just goes silent for a second, a thundering quiet, as you realize that no one can see you and you can't see them. 

It's scary, that silence. That loneliness. You can't breathe, you're just...there. Existing in a floating state that can be either peaceful or terrifying, depending on who you are.

Buck and I used to go swimming all the time. It was something to do when the days got hotter and the streets got crowded, drive in his dad's old truck to some lake far away that he had found. And we'd swim, laugh and splash water at each other, take naps in the shade with only our sunburns keeping us warm.

Even with Bucky there, underwater was lonely. Now he's gone, and I'm drowning.

I think I might be going insane. I feel...calm, almost, like things are normal. But they're not, because he's-

Because he's dead.

I feel a laugh bubble out of my throat, wild and uncontrollable. I try to stifle it with my hand but I can't, it just falls out of me, tearing apart my body as it claws its way into the stale air. I feel sick all of a sudden, like I've just thrown up, and stop laughing, but keep my hand over my mouth.

He's dead.

It was only a day ago that I stood next to him. That we laughed together, that we shared a kiss behind a large boulder so the Howlies couldn't see. Was that only a day ago? Feels like forever, now that he's-

That-

He's dead.

A day. Is that all? I went back to camp as soon as we got back, pretended to be fine until this bed begged me to collapse on it. People left me alone, perks of being a national hero, so I can just cry and scream and vomit and _die_ and no one will ever come looking.

Then it hits me.

I scramble out of bed with a curse, and go to the bathroom attached to my bedroom. My eyes are puffy, the bags under them are as deep as the Grand Canyon (Buck always wanted to go to the Grand Canyon, Bucky, _baby),_ but I look presentable enough. I put on my Captain America face and stride outside, determined to find Philips so I can find Bucky.

Eyes follow me, but I pay them no mind. I'm a man on a mission, I'm a goddamn superhero, I can hold it together until he's back and we're together and everything is perfect again.

Because Bucky would go looking. Bucky would search high and low, look everywhere he could, even if he knew that all he could ever find was a body. But I won't find-I'll find him, because Bucky is strong. He's strong as hell and he could survive that fall, I know he could, I _know_ that he-

I finally reach Philips' office, realizing that I don't remember walking here at all. I knock once, twice, a thousand times, and see his irritated face open the door. "Rogers, what the hell are-"

"He could still be alive. He was-after Azzano, he was way stronger, more durable, and I bet he could have survived if he landed in enough snow."

Philips just looks at me for a moment, sadness and disappointment and annoyance dancing on a face attempting to be impassive. "No. I'm sorry, but Sergeant Barnes is dead."

Even though the words make me want to throw up, I persist, "But what if he isn't? All due respect, sir, but-"

"Denial is a normal response to grief, but I can't let you-"

"You can let me search," I plead, voice lowering as I try to replace my desperation with some semblance of charisma, "You can let me try. I swear, if we find nothing, I'll move on. I'll do my job without complaint, you won't hear a word from me of letting-of letting his death get in the way of...but just-let me look. Please, sir. Because if I don't have that closure, if I can't KNOW for a fact that he's dead, I'll drive myself mad."

Philips looks back, and I can see the inner turmoil of his head. I can see me win that fight . I try to hide my smile as he sighs, "Fine. But you're doing this during the week you and the Commandos have off for mourning purposes, and you aren't forcing anyone to come with you. You can ask for help if you want, but don't push your luck."

"Thank you, thank you, sir, I promise I won't-"

"Yeah, yeah. Go on and get, huh?"

I'm underwater, still. But instead of just floating in the surreal loneliness, I've reached the point where I've decided to break the surface. Sure, my lungs are burning for air and it truly feels like I'm drowning, but I've remembered how to swim. I have a chance of going up, up to the air and the light and Bucky, swimming beside me and asking what took me so damn long.

Bucky.

Hope has always been my downfall, a sharp blade that cuts the blows of pain. Because despite all I've seen, I still expect the world to bring me goodness. Despite all I've seen, I'm still wounded when the world swings back with carnage.

So perhaps this is naïve, this desperate attempt to find a man who very well could be dead. But that's a _could,_ not an _is,_ there's a chance and I'm betting my life on it. Bucky could still be alive, he _is_ still alive, and I'll find him if it's the death of me.

Every single member of the Commandos agreed to help me. Ain't that nuts? Buck really does have them wrapped around his little finger. I'll tease you about that later, Bucky, once we've found you and you're back with me, where you belong.

A day. Only a day, we've been apart for longer! And while (presumed) death is a much greater barrier than war and oceans, I know we can find each other again. We can, Bucky. I'll find you, darling, I swear.

The biting wind sweeps over me as we make our way down a sharp incline, my men following me as I lead them into the ravine where you fell. I think this is the one (I know it is, I know you're here, Bucky) I saw you fall (Grab my hand! BUCKY!) into, but there's no way to be 100% sure. That train was moving awful fast, and we've got a lot of ground to cover.

I'll cover it, for you. Because wouldn't you do the same for me?

Years, honey. Years I've spent fighting you, loving you, doing fucking everything for you because what else is there? What else is there. 

What else is there, God?

I know I'll find him. But if I don't...you've let him into Heaven, right? He's with Ma and his Dad and Grandpa John and-I know it's a sin. Father, I know we've sinned terribly. But you'll let him in? You'll let him have his rest? God on high, Father almighty, Lord of Heaven and Earth, please tell me you let him in-

No. I don't need to think about Heaven and Hell when there's work to be done. When there's a life to save, a man to love til death do us part.

Til the end of the line, baby.

We pledged that to each other all the time, right? At first, it was just pals being pals, shyly showing that friendship is a kind of love that can change the world if you let it. But then, it became a vow. A promise. A goddamn commandment, a scripture dictating that if you go, I go, if you stay, I stay, and there ain't a damn thing the world can do about it. Because the world can't understand just how much I fucking love you.

That love better stay in the present tense, baby.

After hours of walking, faint grumbling behind me occasionally breaking up the heavy silence that accompanies our descent, the ground has settled down to a flat surface beneath our feet. "Alright, everyone, split up. You've got your whistles, blow hard if you find anything." The men nod grimly in response to my command, and obey with no complaints.

And so I search for you, Bucky. Though the air is cold and I'm alone alone alone, I search. An hour passes, maybe two, and I-

I see a shining something in the snow.

Racing forward, I grab my whistle and pray that you're here, that I'm about to find you and bring you home. As I approach that shine that caught my eye from afar, however, my heart sinks. Clearly, that's not a person. It's something small, something I can't even see without getting close. And when I do get close...I see my name.

I see my name on your dog tags. 

_"You know I ain't superstitious, Bucky," I laugh, cheeks flushing from the sweetness of his offer. "Aw, c'mon!" he says teasingly, "Even if it doesn't do shit, I'd like to have your name around my neck."_

_They say that if you're wearing another guy's tags, you can't die. Personally, I think it's a load of bull, but Bucky is dead set on the idea. His sincerity sends butterflies fluttering in my stomach, and I try to put on that tough-guy facade so hard to don when he's around. "That's awful sweet, Barnes, but I'm not giving you my tags because of some old wives tale-"_

_"Well, we can't have rings, can we?" I freeze, looking at him as he smirks. "You know I'd marry you in a heartbeat, if I could. So even though I can't...consider this a proposal, huh? It won't ever be legal, I know, we'll never be able to have a wedding with a priest and all that, but at least this is_ something. _So just swap with me, will ya?"_

_Damn you, Barnes. He's way too good with his words, way too sappy for his own good. I tell him as much, and he smiles. "So that's a yes, then?"_

_I sigh, unable to keep the grin off my face as I pull off my tags and place them in his hands. "Of course it is, baby. What's mine is yours." I lean forward to kiss him, and feel his smile against my lips as-_

I let out a choked sob, hands shaking as I pick up the forgotten metal in the snow. My name etched into two little tags, hanging on a chain. Not attached to a body. My knees hit the ground, become soaked in the wet snow as I just look, head reeling with the implications of this discovery.

He...they were underneath his clothes. The tags. He always tucked them in real good, made sure that they would never fall off in battle. So if they're on the ground...if they're on their own...

It doesn't make sense.

You know when you're underwater? And the serenity turns to panic as your lungs start to burn? I'm at the crossroads, I can't float any more. Either I drown or swim, and I can't-I don't-

He has to be alive. Right?

I try to think about why these would be on their own, although thought is practically impossible when it feels like the whole world is reeling. He must've survived the fall, pulled them out. He...he did that a lot, when the fight was over, take off his tags and just look at them. He only did it when I wasn't around, when he thought I couldn't see, but I always saw, I always loved it, that little sign of devotion he had, the way he looked at my name like it was precious, the way he protected it and cherished it and did everything he could to keep it safe...

He wouldn't have just left my name in the snow. Which has to mean that something happened to him.

Hope and logic struggle for dominance in my heart, but these tags are the weapon that beats down all positivity. Because I know for a fact that Bucky loves me, that he would never leave my tags, his version of a wedding ring, lying in the snow like this. 

I know he loves me too much for that.

(loved)

I squeeze my eyes shut like a child, begging God with everything I have that when I open them, he'll be here. But when I finally brave a glance, I'm still alone. Legs soaking wet, hands shaking, face wet with tears I don't remember shedding. I stumble to my feet and begin looking around, thinking maybe, _maybe_ he's just hiding around the corner. I make it about fifty feet when I see the first signs of blood.

Is this a blessing or a curse? My stomach churns as I touch the red snow gently, nauseated by the realization that this can't be anyone but Bucky's. I hear my name being called from afar, but I can't be bothered to care. I've found something, and I cannot rest until I find him.

The amount of blood, though, that makes me think I won't find him at all. And if I do...my mind flickers to the corpses in Azzano, in the camps, in all the bloody battlefields that have come and gone in my life. (Please be alive, PLEASE)

I walk slowly, uncharacteristically terrified. It looks like he was dragged across the snow, pulled God knows where by God knows what. "Steve!" a voice calls out, and I turn. Dum Dum stands, pale faced, staring at me as I stand in a puddle of my lover's blood. "Steve..."

"I found his tags," I say dully, holding up the metal as though he wouldn't believe me without proof. "And blood."

"Uh..." Dum Dum just looks shocked for a moment, before shaking his head and hardening his expression. "That-okay. Okay. Steve, that's...you realize how much blood that is, right? I hate to say it, but-"

"But no one could survive losing that much, except for maybe me."

To his credit, Dugan looks sympathetic. "I think...if you have his tags, he mighta survived the fall. But-"

"But he bled out. Or an animal got him. If we follow this trail, we'll find a den and a skeleton, picked clean."

Dum Dum winces, but I can't feel anything as I say those words. After being underwater long enough, no one can survive. I was struggling for a while, but now-

Well, now I'm a corpse. Blue lipped and icy, incapable of feeling and undeserving of life.

I should've known. I should've figured that this mission was hopeless, that I couldn't find anything but pain. You know, whenever morbid thoughts after a tough battle made me imagine Bucky's death, I always thought I'd shed endless tears. I didn't think that I would die, too.

I'm not dead yet. My heart still beats, though it is cold and empty. I let the Commandos lead me back up to camp, holding those tags and feelings empty. I let them sit me down on a chair, talk to me about God knows what.

All I can think of is death. Can corpses do anything else?


End file.
